Faceoff
by Lady Lola
Summary: After what happened, it was obvious there was something that needed to be done, so they needed to meet again.  My first attempt at dark!character, please R R


**Face-off**

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><p>He watched the short man moving slightly on the chair he was tied to.<p>

The last remains of the drugs were wearing out quite quickly, and he enjoyed the muffled noises that were coming out of the prisoner's gagged mouth.

When his captive finally woke up and opened his eyes, he greeted him with a blood freezing smile.

"Welcome back" he said, his low voice smooth and flawless like expensive silk, and equally sensual.

"You know, I never wanted us to end up in this position.

We were fine, together, we really were.

But then, you decided to bring things up to another level, and everything fell apart. Your fault, not mine."

He shook his head, then brought his look again on the sitting man.

He noticed that he was weaving his head almost furiously, so he stepped closer and pulled the gag down.

After some, shallow breaths, the prisoner started talking in a raged voice.

"What are you doing?" he asked huskily.

"Don't be daft as anyone else in the world, I know you aren't. I told you: you spoiled it all.

You should have stood back, you should have known better."

"Oh, come on! As you never wanted it" the shorter man said, laughing bitterly.

"Everything I thought of you, everything I felt for you, I know it's completely mutual. You should have seen the consequences before taking a chance!" he added, shaking his shoulders in a useless attempt to ease the ropes that tied him.

"Stop moving, dear, you'll only make it worse.

When we started our _relationship_" the tall man replied, flashing his opponent a devilish grin on the word relationship, "my rules were pretty clear: it was me and you. Our meeting was supposed to be a tete – à – tete; you broke the rules, I broke them too. Simple as that."

"I'm not so much the rule guy, you know, that's why you wanted to play with me; I do things you don't – or can't – do. I'm your inner You, without being your outer, socially-constrained You."

The short man was speaking in a seductive voice, trying to break the other man's shield with his flatteries.

"Quit this attitude, get back to what you were, and we'll be great together. We'll feel _whole_ together".

Just when the captor was about to speak, the still air got filled with the sudden chirp of a cellphone; he extracted it from his pocket and looked at its screen.

_Out of the surgery, still in a __coma. No one knows when he'll wake up. H_

The tall man diverted his gaze from the screen and looked steadily back at his prisoner.

When he spoke, his voice was no longer warm or sexy.

It was almost guttural and frightening, like the roar of a lion that protected his herd.

"The only person that ever felt me _whole_, as you said, now lies in a hospital bed.

You made a pool collapse onto him, and that's not acceptable.

Not. At. All."

He reached the gag and pulled it up again to cover his prisoner's mouth.

The captive tried to flinch and bite, but whoever had tied him to the chair was an expert in doing his job, so he was moving hopelessly.

With no effort, he was silenced again.

"Not so long ago, the person you put in that hospital bed was told he was a psychopath, and that he finally would have given up and enjoyed – no, they're not the right words – ah yes… that sooner or later he would have _got off_ on a murder.

Poor Sergeant Donovan was wrong, of course, but not totally; simply, she described the wrong brother.

It's not Sherlock the one who's going to achieve pleasure in watching you die today, mr. Moriarty.

You should have kept your unrequited attention far from him and dr. Watson, as I told you to do on our first meeting.

Unfortunately, your contempt of the rules is being the death of you.

_Ciao_, mr. Moriarty".

Mycroft slid behind the chair, pulled a sharp stiletto out of his pocket and stabbed Moriarty in the center of his heart.

He walked back to his starting place and cherished the lost, pained expression on his enemy's face.

He smiled.

Walking out the warehouse, he pulled out his phone again and dialled a number.

"Hermia, dear, I'm getting to the hospital. Would you mind send someone to my previous location? Our kind guest needs to be disposed of."

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><p><strong>Author's here<strong>: When I started writing it, I had a completely different idea about what I was writing; then, this development came into view and it felt so nice I changed my mind about this fic. I hope I didn't spoil a good story.

I'm sorry there's no John, but he simply didn't fit in.

Sorry John, you know I still love you.


End file.
